


Something Special

by knights-and-musketeers (periken)



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aramis is like a child, But who's to say he isn't always adorable, Clothing Kink, Cuddling & Snuggling, FWP, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Humor, Kissing, M/M, So cute and adorable, Teasing, bandana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periken/pseuds/knights-and-musketeers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluff fic. Aramis tries on Porthos' uniform and enjoys it more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Special

There is a rhythmic tapping on wood along with short, repeated crunching sounds from the contact of boot to ground as Porthos waits at their usual long table in the Garrison for Serge to bring him two bowls of stew. All the other musketeers have already eaten dinner hours ago and the evening meal is usually Serge's last shift, yet here he is, back in the kitchen, having to work overtime.

A mission gone awry is what brought about the four Musketeer's late arrival home. They weren't expecting anyone to greet them at such a late hour, but Serge - who seemed to be waiting for their return - welcomed them and insisted on serving the exhausted men a nice hot meal after their long journey, despite their attempts to convince him he needs not to do so.

His brothers, Athos and D'Artagnan, have already departed for their rooms with their bowls while Porthos waits for the cook to retrieve the last two for Aramis and himself. The missing musketeer, Aramis, is waiting back in his quarters as a sprained ankle is a convincing enough reason for the large musketeer to force him to stay put.

A pang of guilt flows through Porthos for inconveniencing the kind cook so late at night. The man has to feed at least a dozen men each day, usually not getting much of a break at all due to bustling musketeers arriving and departing famished at various times throughout the day. Despite this, he always serves the meals with a large smile and Porthos admires his pursuing strength.

Serge arrives around the corner with the last two bowls and passes them over to Porthos with a brightening smile.

"Thank you so much, Serge. Sorry for disturbin' you at this hour," he returns the smile and gives a small bow.

"No worries. Always here to serve you four, no matter how late," he says, clapping a hand onto Porthos' shoulder before waving good night and retiring back to his own room.

\----------

"You know, I almost starved to death," Aramis quips as soon as Porthos enters. "You were this close to seeing a dead body on the floor," he exaggerates by gesturing his index finger and thumb nearly touching.

The large musketeer rolls his eyes, exasperated at the marksman's exaggerated remarks. "Ath and D'Art took the first two bowls so I had to wait. Blame 'em."

Aramis gives a small growl and pouts, prompting Porthos to laugh at the puppy-like behaviour. He receives another growl for laughing as he passes the food over to his hungry brother who has his arms outstretched in eagerness, but with a masked expression of annoyance.

Settling down in a chair by his bedside, he tilts his head towards the medic's bandaged ankle.

"How's the pain?"

Aramis shrugs his shoulders as he slurps away at the stew like he hasn't eaten in days. "I'ss alruugh," he responds, his speech garbled together.

The marksman pauses his devouring and curses quietly before resting back against the pillow in front of the headboard.

"If only that darn bandit didn't pull at my doublet during the fight and make my foot land awkwardly while pivoting..." he argues, waving a spoon towards him with a vexed yet angry expression.

"Oi, you shou'd be glad you ain't dead," Porthos protests with a spoonful of stew in hand. "He could 'ave easily killed ya due to that fall."

"Glad? My doublet is ripped here now!" Aramis prompts immediately, nearly spilling the bowl on his lap from his abrupt move of showing him the location of the tear on his shoulder. He directs his gaze to his torn doublet lying on the table, staring at it miserably from the lost cause of its wearability. He sighs, shifting his focus back to eating while turning his attention to Porthos again. He scans the condition of his doublet.

"I don't know how yours never gets damaged," he arches his brows and points towards his brother's outerwear.

Porthos chuckles at the medic's priorities of the ripped doublet over his life. It's unquestionable that a beautiful man like Aramis can't afford to be seen without looking his best at all times. His vanity is likely ranked just as crucial to his duties as a Musketeer.

Amused with his brother's mourning over his damaged doublet, he decides to tease him on the ordeal.

" 'hat's cause mine is bet'er than yours," he answers Aramis' question with a smirk. "And it looks bet'er," he adds, tilting his chin down at his chest.

The medic's brows soar up quickly and he glares at him wide-eyed, taking the reply as a challenge and halts his eating.

"That's where you're wrong, mon ami," he gives Porthos a playful wink. "Your doublet may look all intricate," Aramis waves his hands up in fake excitement. "But my design is simple yet posh. Simple elegance is true beauty," he retorts, announcing the reasonings for his jacket's precious wonders.

Porthos is impressed with his brother's dialogue about graceful fashion, but Aramis' self-opinion of what's true beauty pushes him to fight fire with fire.

"Try mine on for yourself before jumpin' to conclusions," Porthos says bluntly, already working on removing his doublet. "I know you'll 'ike its ornate look just as much as your simple one."

Aramis narrows his eyes suspiciously at him as he makes no move to take the proffered doublet. After analyzing it and Porthos' expression for a moment, it's clear that the large musketeer thinks he can prove him wrong with his confident smile.

Moving his nearly empty bowl aside, he sits straighter and lifts up the doublet to study its design, which is traced with various thick black linings over the shoulders and chest along with a background of greyish-brown speckled patterns. He brings it back down, peering at him with an unconvinced expression.

The marksman pulls his arms into the sleeves and half his hands end up being buried into the brim. The uniform's broader shoulders don't fit snugly over Aramis' and his chest doesn't contour into Porthos' larger chest width so his upper body looks saggy and disproportional. After buttoning up the doublet, the scaled collar hangs heavily around his neck, feeling as if it's trying to pull him under. His locks of hair gets caught in the high collar at the nape, making the fluidity of his head movements restrained.

He looks down at himself and judges the quality of the so-called more 'stylish' doublet when a roaring laugh comes from Porthos, causing the medic to glance up. He slaps his knee in joy while pointing at his brother's over-sized outfit.

"You look 'ike a child who deci'ed to play dress up wit' daddy's clothin', Porthos mocks in between breaks of his laughter.

Aramis punches him in the arm immediately, but his hand can't even be seen due to the long sleeve covering most of it, making his swing look like a weak swipe.

"How do you even manage to wear this everyday?" he inquires confusingly with scrunched brows as he shuffles about, pulling the sleeves back and tugging at the waist line of the loose doublet before attempting to free his hair caught in the back collar.

"Now I know why you're so slow. It's cause of this heavy thing weighing you down," the marksman scans his hands down the length of his body. 

Porthos gives a small laugh while ruffling Aramis' hair in enjoyment at his brother's baffled state over the difficult wearability of his doublet.

Aramis pouts petulantly at the way Porthos treats him indignantly and his sulky expression prompts the large musketeer to plant a small kiss on his forehead causing him to blush slightly from the gesture. He tries to play it off like it didn't affect him, but seeing Porthos' delighted smile from the light bantering soon convinces his mouth to curl into a smile.

Porthos watches Aramis' gaze wander and target his gloves on the bed - like a child would with a toy - and reaches for it. Cocking his head to one side, he slips his hands in and glares at the over-sized gear, turning it palm up and palm down in front of him. His eyes follow the glove's length and finds it to end at his elbows.

Porthos holds back a chuckle at how much Aramis really looks like a confused yet curious child now. The way he tilts his head innocently and his eyes widening at the sight of the glove's size. Porthos can't help but let a smile cross his face.

After finishing his analysis, Aramis raises a brow at him. "How do you fight with a sword properly wearing these mittens?" he clenches and unclenches his fists as if testing its grip.

"By using my hands, genius," he replies sarcastically, leaning in to pull the glove off to show him.

Aramis' hand withdraws quickly from his reaching grasp and points at his bandana with a much new interest.

"Can I try on your bandana? I've always wondered what it'd look like on me."

Porthos barks a laugh and kisses him on the cheek. "You're gettin' more and more in'erested in my fancy clothin'. What 'appened to simple elegance is true beauty?" he mocks playfully as he presses his lips into a thin line and arches his brows.

"It's still true. I just want to try it on," he quickly answers the question as he grabs for the bandana over Porthos' head before he even gets the chance to speak.

Within seconds, Aramis has the bandana in hand and is trying to figure out how to slip it on nicely without untying the long tail that trails behind it.

_How is this childish man and the best marksman in Paris the same person?_ Porthos thought.

With a wry smile, the large musketeer takes it out of his hands and slots it on easily from the front of his forehead, pulling down on the tail till the edge of the bandana is just above his ears. His brother looks down in embarrassment from the incompetency at the simple task. He kisses him on the nose and nudges him to make eye contact.

" 'ey you actually look pret'y good with my 'dana on," Porthos admits, giving a smile that extends from ear to ear. He flips at the long, curled hair which poke out from beneath the bandana and twirls a finger around the strands. A blush crawls onto Aramis' face and he grins at the sight.

Leaning back, Porthos takes in Aramis' appearance of how small he looks in his clothing and how incredibly adorable it is on him.

His brother explores the uniform as he raises an arm, tugging at the bottom of the sleeve to see how loose it is. He plays around with the scales on the collar, lightly pulling on it as if testing its durability. Then he drags his hand down the various designs on the chest and shoulders, getting a feel of the texture before frowning at the weird, rough, and bumpy surface. He constantly yanks and adjusts the gloves, closing and opening his fist cause he can't get it to fit comfortably on his hand. The navy blue bandana seems to be the only garment that fits well and that's Porthos' favourite part of the outfit.

"Your face is frozen in a stupid smile," Aramis breaks in. "Clearly, this look pleasures you," he directs a finger at himself while wiggling his eyebrows.

Porthos breaks into a small laugh, unable to take him seriously when he's trying to flirt while wearing all this over-sized clothing.

"You look 'ike someone who just went to a bad tailor," he remarks with a witty smile.

"Well, this isn't tailored for me. It's your uniform," Aramis replies along with a raised brow. "But I know you like how this looks on me," he grins confidently, knowing that is certain.

"Mmm... 'hat is true, but..." Porthos nods slowly with arms crossed as he inspects him from top to bottom and then cocks his head with dissatisfaction.

He starts pulling off the large gloves, undoing the doublet and shedding him of it, throwing them into a heap on the floor. He straddles Aramis' lap and secures his hand behind the marksman's head, his fingers playing with the tail of his bandana.

"I like this part the most on you," he growls endearingly, his other hand stroking over Aramis' head before grabbing the braided tail and tossing it over the medic's shoulder.

Aramis' face is fixed in surprise from the sudden move, but it quickly unhinges itself as it turns into his usual large smile. He links his fingers together around Porthos' nape and leans in until their foreheads meet. Their dark brown eyes stare at each other endearingly for a moment before Porthos pushes his lips onto Aramis'.

The kiss is passionate yet also graceful. The large musketeer's movements are done with delicate skill as he licks his lips at the right places and switches their pace quick, but still keeping the kiss eloquently devoting.

The marksman elicits a guttural moan at a teasing little lick as he travels his hand up to his black, curly hair and grazes through it. A growl sounds from Porthos' throat as he proceeds to play with the spiral of hair that blooms out from the bandana. He can feel a smile spread across Aramis' lips and he licks it in desire to hear the moan again in which his wish is granted upon the sound of the pleasant noise.

They eventually part to gasp for air, but keep their faces still inches from one another. Aramis kisses the tip of his nose and Porthos flashes a grin before turning himself over to lie beside him, adjusting so his head is in his lap. The marksman looks down at the dark-skinned man and smiles back at him before running his hand through his curls again.

"I really do like the 'dana on you. Perhaps I should buy ya one," Porthos says while playing with the tail that hangs down from Aramis' shoulder.

"Just so you'll have an excuse to look at me more? It seems you're more in love with the bandana itself," he questions with a raised brow.

"Who says I don't always look at you?" Porthos responds without hesitation, a loving smile plastered on his face.

Aramis turns flush and averts his head to adjust the bandana as a reason to avoid eye contact. Porthos chuckles and rubs his thumb across the medic's cheek causing the blush to travel to the tips of his ears.

"You become more beautiful by the second," Porthos says as he cups his cheeks into his palm and turns his head around.

Aramis leans away and arches his brows in shock. "Mon ami, I am handsome. Not beautiful," he protests, his tone showing offence taken at the comment.

An amusing huff of laughter echoes throughout the room from Porthos as he pulls him down by the tail of the bandana and raises his own head up until their lips lock together. Aramis gasps from the sudden unpredicted move, but returns the kiss and wraps his hand around the side of the large musketeer's head as they move in sync, slow and relaxed.

After pulling away, Porthos hears a small whimper escape Aramis' lips as he remains hovering over him, upset that the session ended so quickly. The large musketeer lifts his head slowly to an eager Aramis who is smiling widely and leaning down. Before they join, Porthos tantalises him and withdraws his head, leaving Aramis hanging with a mouth slightly agape.

The marksman sulks with a childish frown at the false hope and Porthos chuckles, making up for it by planting a kiss on his cheek which brings about a gentle smile across the man's face.

Resting his head back into Aramis' lap, Porthos gazes up at him, relishing in the view of his messy hair that sprouts from the bandana and the strands - that aren't trapped underneath the fabric - hanging down the sides of his face; along with a shine that glimmers with content in his eyes and lips curled into an endearing smile. Huffing a happy sigh, he sits up and reaches to pull the bandana back a bit - until it exposes most of his forehead - and embeds a light kiss.

Aramis returns a gentle kiss on his cheek before Porthos twists his body so he is lying beside him. The medic removes the large gloves and doublet before pushing himself down from his upright position and lies down flat. The large musketeer drapes his arm over his hips and pulls him in closer causing Aramis to grin from the gesture.

"My doublet still looks better than yours," the marksman claims, suddenly remembering their banter from earlier.

A playful smile creeps onto Porthos' face as he strokes his hand across the side of Aramis' head.

"I doub' it. I saw how much you enjoyed and liked wearin' mine," he responds. "And the 'dana seems to be your favourite since you di' n't complain 'bout it and still 'ave it on."

Aramis looks up and realises he didn't take it off before settling into bed. To be honest, even though the bandana gets his hair all tangled underneath, he didn't mind as he does enjoy wearing it and the headwear reminds him of Porthos. He reaches for the braids at the back and plays around with it, his fingers running down the grooves between the criss-cross of fabric.

"Well, maybe because I like the bandana's simpler design compared to the others and it fits well," he responds as an excuse, unwilling to admit the truth.

"You thin' I'll fall for 'hat?" Porthos raises a brow, clearly able to see through his lie.

Aramis knows he's never been a good liar, but chooses not to say anything by directing his gaze to the window behind his brother with much interest and pretending to not having heard what he said. But the re-blooming blush on his cheeks tell another story.

The marksman can see Porthos grinning widely from the corner of his eye and knows he can't win this argument.

"Fine. I do like the bandana," replying shyly before returning his attention back to Porthos. "It reminds me of you the most and I like that you think it looks good on me," he averts his eyes, embarrassed with his ridiculous answer.

"I'll give it to ya then," Porthos prompts, beaming a large grin.

"No, I can't. This is your favourite," Aramis quickly protests, reaching his hands up to take the bandana off, only to be stopped short by Porthos' quick reflexes.

" 'm serious. Keep it," he says with arched brows. "I've got plenty of others."

Aramis chews on his bottom lip, unwilling to accept the offer; feeling that he should politely decline and give it back, but with the half-threatening glare in Porthos' eyes, he probably won't let him leave until he agrees to accept it fully without guilt.

"Okay..." the marksman whispers in acquiesce. Porthos grins in satisfaction and kisses him gently on his lips.

He gives a quick kiss back. "Thank you, Porthos. It means so much that you'd ever give me this," Aramis smiles with all his heart and Porthos reciprocates in the same manner while squeezing his hand lightly before lacing their fingers together.

Aramis vows to treasure it forever. It's a piece of Porthos that he'll carry with him everywhere he goes. Something that will be a part of him for the rest of his life. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Something special FanArt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063473) by [The_Ghoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ghoul/pseuds/The_Ghoul)




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